Forging Ahead
by TheCeruleanQuill
Summary: Sequel to "Welcome to Xavier's School": On his way back to the Institute after Spring Break, Mirage runs in to a cell of the Brotherhood, groomed by Mystique. When they can't see eye to eye, Mystique won't let it go, and Mirage has to call the X-Men for backup! Back home, Xavier introduces Mirage to Forge, who has an interesting proposition for his future.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Chaz lowered his head into his hands. His knuckles protruded like a small mountain range. Everything had gone wrong. He couldn't fix anything, he thought to himself. In a sudden fury he wadded his papers into a ball and hurled it across his room. An engineer or architect would have recognised a truly revolutionary invention, but Chaz was a kid so bad with his hands he had failed shop class. He only sketched for the fun of it. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. A headache had developed a few days ago, throbbing somewhere just behind his forehead, and he couldn't shake it. It wasn't debilitating enough to be a migraine. He had tried antihistamines and there was no change, so it wasn't your average allergy headache. But the constant pressure was slowly driving him out of his mind.

He was days away from his 18th birthday, and it was almost certain he was the only person who knew or cared about that fact. He should never have 'come home' for the spring break. Faint shouting drifted through his bedroom wall. He had thought that his presence could keep the peace: they should have played nice in front of their own kid. If only the world worked like that. The Academy (he refused to think of it as 'Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters') was a better place than this crowded, smelly apartment. He preferred the nightly routine of checking for Bobby's practical jokes to sliding his dresser in front of his bedroom door, 'just in case'.

The headache, the screaming drunks, and the sour, musty smell of the room were overwhelming. He needed his happy place. Slowly, he spread his knarled hands and searched inward for that familiar tingle, like powerful mouthwash. It came from his core, and slowly trickled through him. The tingle took the edge off his headache. Spreading out from his person, ripples like heat waves filled the room. It twisted and changed. And then there was no room.

There were trees, so many trees. He couldn't see the sky for the silvery greyish green of a thousand branches. He could hear the soft shushing sound of a faint drizzling rain, and the heavier sound of fat drops splashing from leaf to leaf. He could almost smell the wet earth. He was sat in a wood in the rain, sheltered under the branches of a huge tree, listening to the rain mute the world around him. The place under the boughs was like a cave, secluded. He could hear the occasional rustle of hedgehog and red squirrel, of birds darting through fallen leaves. The shush of rain was the white noise he needed to drown out the miserable reality of the so-called adults. Nothing was real but the woods and the rain. That glorious smell.

If anyone had been able to open the locked door and step into his room, they would have found themselves in a rainy forest instead of a teenager's bedroom. The illusion, seducing all five senses, remained steady until the skinny boy on the unmade bed slipped into a restless sleep. Then the trees and mist fell away, and all that was left was the teenager, his face taunt even in repose, wearing his jeans to bed with his sneakers close to hand. _Happy birthday, Mirage_… was his last thought as his own illusions lulled him asleep.

When Chaz woke up, the first thing he did was remove the earplugs and listen. His headache was still there, but it wasn't being antagonised. No sounds at all, no TV or fighting from below. It was Sunday. Probably his parents were both in a booze-secured coma. He came into the kitchen to scrounge for food. He found a carton of left over Chinese, not mouldy, and half a carton of apple juice. His dad was drooling in his sleep on the couch. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind, something that had been building in his head for almost a decade. The bloated creature on the couch meant nothing to him. Neither did the wasted woman passed out in the other bedroom. No fear or regret or anger or love. It clicked in his head that this morning, he was 18. Emancipated. He could join the army, vote, get arrested. The world suddenly opened before him. There was not just this shack and the Academy. There was the whole world.

The only thing he left in the apartment was a half used pad of graph paper.

Behind the squalid shack he grew up in, camouflaged by overgrown weeds and brambles, there was a dilapidated old shed, long bereft of window panes and a roof. A rusted chain swung from the old door, which Chaz pulled aside. Inside, he had hidden his treasures. His duffel bag landed with a thud in the dirt floor, and he dug out his few precious things from under bits of wood and old shovels. A silver dollar his grandfather Red Eagle had given him before he died, from the 1850s. Red Eagle said an ancestor had taken it from Custer's corpse, but he had said this with a wink and a grin. There was also a note written by a girl who liked him in the 5th grade. It was the only nice thing anyone had said about him between Red Eagle dying and finding the Academy. Jubilee said on the first day he was alright- which he later learned was, from her, very high praise.

Chaz draped an antique chain with a single pearl around his neck. It was his grandmother's. He had stolen it from her jewellery box during a visit to the old folks' home, because he had seen his mother doing the same. The things his mother had taken had gradually disappeared while the booze kept coming in, but Chaz had kept the pearl and when he looked at it, he remembered his grandmother remembering him.

Under a sheet of half-rusted corrugated tin was his pride and joy: his dirt bike. It was a faded canary yellow and very dirty but completely sound and he knew, thanks to Cyclops, how to drive it. He had helped fixed the engine himself (with a great deal of help and guidance from Beast and Cyclops), and hid it from his parents who would have sold it while he was away. He tried the ignition and it burst into life. The nasal roar of the engine wasn't going to help his headache but the wind in his hair would.

With his gym uniform looking conveniently like motorcycle leathers, he sealed his suitcase (actually an army issue duffel bag) and walked the dirt bike to the gravel road. The gravel led to town, which led to the highway, which led to the interstate. And who knew where that would lead?


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

300 miles later, he had stopped for a call of nature when he heard a sound that didn't belong. There was the quick rattle of a trash bag blowing in the wind, with a low whimper mixed in. He walked up the verge to the barbed wire fence, where he found the black garbage bag that was rattling. The whimpering was inside it. Chaz had seen a lot of sad things in his life but the sight inside the bag made his top ten. There was a dog, dead, and three puppies, dead. A fourth pup was still alive, nudging at his stiff family. A few holes in the bag must have allowed him enough air to breathe. He was crying.

There was only one thing to do. He gently lifted the struggling pup, tucking it inside his jacket against the warmth of his body and the beating of his heart. The puppy stopped crying. Chaz carried the bodies of the mother and three pups onto a high hill. He laid them under the open sky and burned the black bag. Bare to the elements, the sad bodies would become a part of the circle of things, and the last puppy, the little survivor, would be safe with him.

His dirt bike pulled into a Motel 8 on the far side of St Louis just as the sunset was fading from the sky. The drive had taken longer than he planned because he had stopped so often for the puppy. He had to stop to buy a tin of puppy chow, and then stop again to mash it to liquid and mix it with whole milk because the pup was too young for solids. He stopped for a collar it would grow into and a back pack he wore over his chest, where the puppy rode on the bike. They had become a team already. The puppy was a ball of mottled fuzz, white and brown and grey. Mirage encased himself in the image of an older man, taller and broader and sporting designer stubble. Mutant powers could be very useful. He had at times felt left out at the Academy because unlike the others he couldn't use his powers to attack. What was the point of him doing mutant Phys Ed? Illusions can't help anyone run an obstacle course. But in circumstances like this, where a lone kid rolled up on a dirt bike and asked to pay in cash for a hotel room, the ability to make someone see what you want could make all the difference. He snuck the puppy into his room and made him a tiny den in one corner of the bed.

"You're going to need a name, little guy," he said, stroking its tiny floppy ears. The puppy snuffled off into sleep.

In the morning, Chaz learned the hard way why puppies have to be walked first thing. He walked the puppy, rewarded it for going outside, and spent about 10 minutes scrubbing a pillow case with hand soap in the small sink. He left a note saying 'sorry, new puppy' on the sheet drying over the side of the tub, then kicked his bike into life and took off.

On this second day with the puppy, Mirage was better able to anticipate when it would need a walk and a feeding, and so made much better time. When they stopped for lunch, the puppy took off after a bit of paper rolling along in the wind. He laughed at the site, the puppy lunging for paper always outside of its grasp. "Ha! A scruff after a scrap," he thought with humour, and something about that stuck. From then on he thought of the puppy as Scruff. When everyone was fed and watered he tucked Scruff into his jacket and away they went again. This time the highways led them to Cleveland, Ohio, for bed. Mirage had only meant to take another Motel 8 in the suburbs for the night, but somehow he got turned around and ended up in the middle of the city near the wharves. Still, he found a cheap place to stay, parked his dirt bike and settled in for the night with Scruff on the pillow next to him.

In the morning, Mirage woke just the first hint of pink sunrise filtered through his curtains. He pulled on his boots to take Scruff outside for his walk. As he let the little fluff ball sniff around a tree planted in cement, he heard muffled grunting and cursing from the alley where his dirt bike was parked. He dashed to see what was going on.

A gang of a few teenagers- probably between 15 and 20 years old- were trying to steal his bike. They were struggling with it, as Cyclops had added a few high tech security measures.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mirage smiled. Rather than a rather skinny 18 year old, the gang saw a man Beast's size, with a voice like Wolverine's, bearing down on them. He knew bravado worked better than force when it came to most teen gangs.

"Aw Jesus, let's get out of here!" cried a slim lad with white hair.

"Don't be such a pussy," a bulkier boy retorted, turning to Chaz. "We're taking this bike; what are you going to do about it?"

Mirage was a good bluffer, and it seemed to the whole world that he looked at a nearby trash bin, unleashed red lasers from his eyes, and turned the bin into a fiery wreck.

"That, punk. The name is Cyclops. And if you don't get your mitts off my bike you're going to lose a hand." At the sight of the flaming destruction, the boys put their hands in front of them and started to back away.

"Sorry, man, we don't ever take from mutants! We're mutants! No offence, we never woulda tried if we knew who it belonged to!" Mirage appraised the teenagers. The oldest, and largest, was very fat with a head full of shiny brown hair. The boy with white hair was dressed like a Matrix extra, a black leather trench coat over what looked like clubbing clothes. And there was the boy with such bulky shoulders, long dark hair in his eyes, and a nasty sneer twisting his mouth. Mirage could only guess at what their powers might be, but considering they felt cocky enough to steal in broad daylight they must have been more useful than his illusions.

"Yeah. Just watch what you're taking. I'm outta this dump today, but if I have to come back... you wouldn't like that." Mirage probably shouldn't have gone that far but he was lost as to how to actually get on his bike and get out of the situation before they realised they could probably take him.

And then a voice came out of the shadows at the far end of the alley, a silky smooth female voice.

"What would you do about it? You're only a boy, a skinny boy, who draws pictures. We're far more powerful than that."

"Scarlet, what are you doing? You saw-"

"Yes, I saw. And I heard. And I even smelled. But I am not choking on the smoke. Because there is no smoke, and there is no fire. This is all an illusion. And so is the large man you're scared of. He's a boy, with nothing but words." And she emerged from the shadows.

Her hair was dark and long in tiny tight curls, no bigger round than a pencil. She was dressed in a velvet hooded cloak the colour of blood, as sold from the back wall of Hot Topic. She had a massive bejewelled pentagram around her neck and a PVC corset cinching her wait, trying to give the illusion of breasts she hadn't quite grown yet.

"I am the Scarlet Witch, and I know all your secrets, little boy." And though he shouldn't have, Chaz threw back his head and laughed. It was all so dramatic, so over the top, and so badly done. This girl was probably 15 years old, and she was trying to use cheap theatrics to intimidate someone who had fought with the X Men. In his mirth the illusion shimmered and died, leaving the intact trash can in full view, as well as Mirage, holding his sides with laughter, in his motorcycle 'leathers' jacket and with a puppy looking up at him, wagging at his laughter.

"How dare you!" she shrieked. The boys in the gang looked at each other, not knowing quite what to do. Eventually the silver haired one started to chuckle, and the other two followed suit.

"You really should work on your delivery," Mirage managed, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Who are you?" the white haired boy asked.

"Mirage. Who are you?"

"I'm Quicksilver. That's the Blob and Avalanche. The Scarlet Witch is my sister. We're the Brotherhood."

"Just the four of you?" Mirage asked.

"No! We are but one group of many. Our contact Mystique connects us to the great leader. He has hundreds of loyal soldiers." Scarlet Witch tossed her head.

"Are they all runaway kids and thieves?" Mirage asked pointedly.

Scarlet Witch put her nose in the air and ignored that.

"Well this is Scruff and we're on our way to New York. It's been a pleasure meeting you, but I need to get going."

"What's in New York?" asked the Blob.

"Xavier's Academy. It's a school for kids like us."

"You want to go to school? When we're free? What the hell is wrong with you?" Avalanche demanded.

"It's not that kind of school," Mirage said, picking up his puppy. "It's more like boot camp, how to use our powers and how to protect ourselves. Only you still get a diploma at the end so you can live a normal life, if you want to."

"We aren't normal, we're better than that!" the Scarlet Witch snapped. "And… can I hold your puppy? He's really cute!"

"Sure." Mirage handed scruff to Scarlet, who immediately cuddled him to her cheek and began to coo. _Girls_, Mirage thought.

"Don't feel you have to rush off," Quicksilver protested. "Come back to our place, have some grub. I'm sorry we tried to steal your bike. We really don't ever steal from mutants."

"Breakfast sounds good," Mirage said, and Quicksilver grinned at him. Avalanche was still sneering but Mirage could tell Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch were the team that made all the decisions, despite being youngest.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Settled into a dingy flat littered with old pizza boxes, with Scruff rummaging through the smells of all the detritus, Mirage and Quicksilver popped cans of coke.

"So tell me about this brotherhood," Mirage said. "If your fearless leader is as cool as you say, maybe I should put him in touch with the Professor. He's always looking for allies."

"Why would the Leader help your professor?" the Scarlet witch sniffed. She sat daintily on the one uncluttered chair in the room- Mirage suspected she also probably had the only clean bedroom in the house. Quicksilver ignored his sister, and Mirage got the idea that she was a bit over the top.

"Basically, Scarlet and I were in a tight spot and the Leader saved us. And he set us up here and made sure Mystique kept an eye on us. When we found out what he was trying to do, me and Scarlet decided to help. We owe him."

"And it's a magnificent cause!" Scarlet added.

"What is it?"

"Fighting for mutants."

"That's what the professor does. He writes the Secretary of Mutant Affairs all the time, and he gives lectures at colleges, and all kinds of stuff. He even went on Larry King."

"The leader doesn't mess around with that Ghandi crap. The Leader breaks mutants out of jail, and he hits the Friends of Humanity, and he leads attacks on registration centres. He's the first general to fight the war." Avalanche's eyes burned fiercely.

"What war?" Mirage scoffed.

"Humans have been trying to destroy us since we were born," Quicksilver said in a low voice. "And we aren't going to take it now we're old enough to fight back. The leader is showing us how to take the fight to them."

"The professor thinks there's a peaceful solution," Mirage said slowly, trying to pinpoint the source of Quicksilver's tightly controlled fury.

"Dr. King came a century after the Civil War, and he got shot," said the Blob suddenly. "You gotta fight before you can have peace."

"Mystique can explain it to you," said Scarlet Witch, tossing her head. "If you stick around until tonight, you can meet here."

Cyclops had always told Mirage that he should fight smarter, not harder. _You don't need to blow things up, _he said_, if you can get around them_. Cyclops was always trying to reassure Mirage that he could be a James Bond-type spy for the team, which is easily as cool as turning things to ice or throwing exploding cards, if not cooler. He pointed out that people preferred Batman to Superman, so why not Mirage to Iceman? Those pep talks, always discreet, let Mirage admire Cyclops as a mentor and a brother, but not feel any better about his powers. All he could do, really, was draw pictures.

But the need for intelligence was something Cyclops had fully impressed upon him, so he spent the day with the Brotherhood, as they called themselves, gathering information. Chaz needed to know everything he could about their powers and personalities, in case Xavier thought they could be recruited, or needed watching. A lot of renegade mutants were acting out against society and Xavier was one of the few people trying to stop it before it happened. So, Chaz watched, and listened, and filed everything away.

Avalanche was young and angry. He had a massive chip on his shoulder and the power to send out seismic waves. His real name was Dominic. Chaz overheard a rather funny argument between the Scarlet Witch and Avalanche regarding his code name, which hadn't quick stuck yet: "Why can't I be Quaker? As in earthquake? It makes more sense!" "Because Quaker makes you sound like the guy on the oatmeal box, you idiot. Who runs in fear at the mention of oatmeal?". Chaz did not see Avalanche as having Academy potential. He didn't want to learn control, or discretion. He just wanted to break things_. Fair enough, we all go through that phase, _Chaz thought_, but he can't come to Xavier's until he's ready, and he isn't ready yet_.

Blob was a bit of a mystery. The others called him Duke more than Blob, and he didn't want to talk to Mirage. He didn't want to talk about the Great Leader or how the humans had wronged him, or what he would do if he were normal. He wouldn't talk about his power. He sat with each buttock taking up a whole seat cushion on the couch, his chubby fingers flicking away on an Xbox controller. He was playing a zombie slaying game, and his eyes were as glazed as the mindless minions that attacked his character. Mirage thought, in a way, that the Blob was more dangerous than Avalanche. Avalanche was angry, but Blob was cold.

The Scarlet Witch was called Scarlet for short but that was not her real name. Whatever her parents had called her, she wasn't telling, and Quicksilver didn't rat on his twin. Since Mirage had laughed at her theatrics, Scarlet watched him through narrow eyes. She seemed to be sizing him up, as if she wasn't sure if she liked him or hated him. She was also in love with Scruff. She haughtily refused to talk to Chaz about anything, so he used Quicksilver as his source of information about her.

Quicksilver was definitely the key to the group. He spoke to Mirage in long rushing monologues, as if he hadn't been able to talk to anyone for a while and he wanted to use up his words before they expired. His real name was "Pete… basically." He could run fast, and talk fast, and think fast. "I think I'm close to the sound barrier, I really am," he said, eyes shining. "Imagine running so fast you create a sonic boom!". He could run across terrain most people couldn't by the benefit of his speed- like a basilisk lizard, he could cross short expanses of water, and like in old ninja movies he could run up walls and leap between buildings. Mostly, though, Quicksilver seemed lonely and sad.

"So what would you do if you were normal?" Chaz asked.

"I don't know. I can't even imagine it. It's been just me and Scarlet for so long, us against the world, I can't imagine just going to school and getting jobs and stuff." He flicked a small paper wad across the room. "I guess I'd want to make the world better, you know? So bad stuff doesn't happen. Stop people hurting each other."

"Like a cop?"

"Yeah, like a cop or a soldier or something." He smiled. "I could be there between them lifting a gun and pulling the trigger, I could stop them when it was too late for anyone else to help."

"That'd be really cool, Pete," Mirage said, smiling at him. "You could really help people."

"Yeah well, I could never leave Scarlet anyway. She needs me."

"What, with her power? She reads minds!"

"No she doesn't, she's just lucky. She controls chance. Like if you drop pizza on the floor, she can make it land cheese down. She always wins at poker. If there's any element of chance, she can make it happen how she wants. So she was just lucky enough to guess what you really looked like." He grinned suddenly. "She calls it Hexing. And if you piss her off she makes a big show of hexing you- like it's really magic- and then as long as she can keep you in her line of sight, you have terrible luck. She can make you trip or cut your hand or anything like that. You never want to piss her off."

"If she has all the luck in the world, why does she need you?

"She's not really tough, she just pretends to be. She hasn't got any girlfriends, or a mom, and she's trying to be a woman and no one ever told her how…" he trailed off, as if he was remembering something painful.

"You're dealing with the same stuff," Mirage pointed out. "I know how hard that is. Before I met Cyclops I had no clue."

"So what is he, like, your boss?"

"No, he's more like a big brother. Teaches us stuff, helps us do better, watches out for us. He taught me to ride my bike."

"That's awesome. I wish I could meet him"

"You can. Get your stuff together, jump on a bus, and come to New York with me. We have loads of room in the dorms. And there's a girls' dorm. Lots of room for Scarlet."

Quicksilver grinned without any humour. "No way, she's hooked on Mystique at the moment. When they first met she wouldn't go to a movie unless Mystique was coming. She won't leave. And anyway, we owe the Leader. He really did help us out."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Scarlet and I were in a small town, and Scarlet was showing off, playing the big bad witch with her power to scare all the Jesus freaks. Only religious freaks actually believe in witches, and apparently they still believe in killing them. I could have run but I wasn't strong enough to carry Scarlet, and I couldn't leave her there." He looked at Mirage intensely. "I've been working out ever since. I could carry her for five miles if I needed to." He looked down at his hands again. "And then, the Leader showed up. It was like he was flying, and he raised us up with him, and flew us far away from it all. When he put us down Mystique was there, and she set us up here, and she told us all about the Leader's plan to help kids like us and we want to be a part of it."

"And I'll be meeting Mystique soon, huh?"

"Yeah, she comes after dark. Doesn't want people to see her, or they'd know what we are."

Mirage had spent some time with the Morlocks in New York City last year- when Magneto had tried to slaughter them and Gambit had been caught in the middle. Morlocks, all deformed in one way or another by their mutations, were very strange looking people, so Chaz knew he could keep from staring when Mystique turned up. After all, how odd could she be?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The sun had set and Scruff was a sleeping ball of fluff in Mirage's pocket when there was a knock at the door. Scarlet jumped up and ran to the door with an enthusiasm that should have been embarrassing for someone trying so hard to look cool.

"Who is it?" she asked, lowering her voice so it sounded older.

"Mystique," came the reply. Mirage instantly knew why Scarlet had dropped her tone. Mystique's voice was deep and sultry, like Kathleen Turner after a cigarette. Scarlet smoothed her hair one last time and opened the door.

She was very tall for a woman, maybe 5'10. She was wrapped in a cloak (_and that's why Scarlet wears one, _Mirage thought), which hid her completely.

"Are we alone?" she asked in that voice, that compelling voice.

"Mirage is with us," Scarlet said, gesturing to Mirage, who had stood up when Mystique entered. "He casts illusions."

"That is a useful gift," came the voice from deep in the hood. She raised a gloved hand and pulled back the hood, revealing her face.

She is _beautiful_, was his first thought. Breathtakingly beautiful. Perfect features: large cat-like eyes, full lips, delicate nose and high cheekbones. Her hair fell in shockingly red waves below her shoulders. Her gaze struck him dumb and nailed his feet to the floor.

She's… _blue_! came the second thought into his head. The beauty of her face was so striking he almost hadn't registered that her skin was a deep robin's egg blue, and her eyes a glowing yellow.

_She's going to think I'm really rude,_ Mirage thought desperately. _I hope she's knows it's how gorgeous she is, and not the blue thing_…

"Tell me, Mirage," Mystique walked sinuously towards him, her gaze holding him immobile, "have you come to join the army of our Great Leader?"

_Join the army?_ Most of the Reservation boys had joined up at 17, and never come back. Chaz hadn't lived on the actual reservation, like his grandparents did, but he was close to the community, and he had wanted to join up every time one of his peers said his goodbyes with a clipped haircut and a swagger. Join the army, become a warrior, leave and never come back… A dream come true for Mirage. An escape from his parents and his life. But then, when he was fifteen, the army had initiated a 'no mutants' policy. The government said it was because they weren't sure if the standard equipment were safe for mutants and their powers. Mirage's father had registered him as a mutant 5 years ago, and now he was disqualified to enlist.

Join the army of the great leader… do his grandfather proud! Red Eagle had been a soldier in Korea, and often talked about the war. He said it had made him brave, made him wise, made him old and sad but proud and loyal, too. If Mystique had asked if he wanted to join the Leader, he'd have said no, but to join the army… that was something altogether different.

"I, uh… I'm interested," he said finally. "I want to know more."

Mystique smiled at him. "Of course," she said. "There is much to learn."

"So, uh…" her eyes were intense, enveloping him. She sat down on a couch and Scarlet sat next to her, echoing her body language: the crossed legs, the tilt of her head. "So, who is the Great Leader? What's his name?"

"We call him the Great Leader," Scarlet said sternly, but Mystique smiled. "His friends call him Magneto."

Magneto! He was the one who had ordered the massacre on the Morlocks! He had set Gambit up to take a fall for a mass murder. He had been the Professor's best friend, once… but that was years ago. Either the Brotherhood was duped, or they were willingly helping a maniac.

"And uh, what does he want? And how is he getting it done? And what would I do for him?"

"It's simple," Mystique said. "He was among the first to realise that homo sapiens and homo superiors could not coexist peacefully. The government in this, the most 'free' of countries, is denying our rights. We have been attacked, tagged like cattle, imprisoned, hunted and murdered out of their ignorance and fear. They think they can control us and make us their slaves. In other places, things are even worse for our brothers and sisters. The Leader knows that we will not be free to live our lives until we stage a glorious revolution. We must throw off our chains and make retribution for all the wrongs they have inflicted. And when the dust has settled and the humans have learned to fear us, then we will be free to build our new world."

Mirage's mind raced. It was pretty rhetoric with lots of stirring words but no substance. She hadn't said anything other than that they would fight a war leaving humans destroyed and dispossessed.

"And uh, how do we make all that happen?"

"Magneto has a plan. He is creating a base for us, where we can grow and learn in safety, and plan our uprising. He is in communication with all the great leaders of our people, and together they are making a place for us." Scarlet was sat with a rapt expression, as if her mother were telling her a bedtime story.

"Is he meeting with Charles Xavier?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"Where did you hear about him?" she asked, with a gentle smile.

"I-" Chaz had a crazy instinct to lie, but he had already told Pete about the Academy. He couldn't play dumb now. "I go to his school. He's already made a safe place for us to grow and learn. I live there."

Mystique sighed, and smiled at him almost sadly.

"Charles Xavier is a good man, a kind man. He is a gentle soul and a genius, in his own way. The few he has chosen to shelter are very lucky indeed. But Xavier is also a dreamer. He dreams of a world he will never see. Do you know what happened to Ghandi, Mirage? And Dr King? And Jesus Christ?"

"They all made the world a better place!"

"And they were all murdered. Each of them allowed himself to be taken away from his people when they needed him most through his own selfish pacifism. Violence is a part of this world, Mirage, and we cannot all hide from it, like the lucky children in Xavier's school. We cannot wish it away or play by rules no one else will respect. The world is hard and cruel, and to protect ourselves, we must be, too."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that. I think there's got to be a way to talk to people. We've got to start small, and convince maybe a family at a time. But then we'll have convinced a whole suburb, and then a town. Pretty soon we'll have mutant safe countries and then, well, why not the world?"

"Because people don't think like that!" she almost hissed at him. "Do you think that the Genoshans will give up their slaves because mutants are people too? They make billions in tourism on the sweat of mutants harnessed like oxen and kennelled like dogs. And the genetic experiments that Dr Trask is doing in his privately funded lab! He's harvesting our flesh, abducting registered mutants and torturing them! All with the blessing of Senator Kelly, the benevolent bigot, and his pet Gyrich, who swear it's all in the name of science and the furthering of human knowledge. They're letting it happen, Mirage. The world. The governments and the people. And while Xavier puts his fingers in his ears and dreams of his perfect tomorrow, he too is letting it happen. Well, The Great Leader isn't letting it happen. He isn't looking the other way- he has them in his sights. And while we gather our strength, he is marking them for retribution." Her golden eyes held him like the gaze of a cat on a mouse. "Think back, Mirage, to all the ones who wronged you. Think of the pains that you have endured. Was that justice?"

His mind flew back to his childhood, his parents, the older guys at school and the guidance counsellor who made his life hell, until Cyclops and Iceman came for him. Every mutant had known injustice. It wasn't fair.

"He can heal us, Mirage," Scarlet said suddenly. She looked into his face and put her hand lightly on his knee. For the first time she wasn't dissembling or posing. Her eyes shone with sincerity, and Chaz felt an uncomfortable quiver in his stomach. He liked her. "He can stop them from hurting us, and keep them from ever doing it again. He'll punish them, and free us. Isn't that what we've hoped for?"

Between the powerful presence of two women- one beguiling, the other sincere and for once, vulnerable- he could barely keep a clear head. But then he thought of Iceman and Angel and Jubilee and Silver, who were like his siblings, and how it would feel to leave them. He thought of Leech and the other Morlocks Magneto had tried to kill. He thought of Red Eagle. Red Eagle had been human, and so had his grandmother, and people like them didn't deserve to be crucified when vigilantes declared martial law. There had to be good people out there who deserved protection from militants on both sides. Mutants needed to be protected from some humans, but it seemed to Chaz that humans needed protecting from certain mutants, too.

"I'm sorry," Mirage said, slowly getting to his feet. Scruff mumbled in his pocket. "I just don't think the Brotherhood is for me. Or I'm not for it. Whatever. I can't join you." He smiled sadly at Scarlet, who had stood with him. She looked at him in disbelief, hurt showing on her face.

"You would turn away from us? From all this?" Her eyes filled. "We need every fighter we can get, there's a job to do, and you're going to just walk away from it!"

"I'm going back to Xavier's. I've always been going back to Xavier's. I would like for you to come with me; there is a place for all of you there," he raised his voice so that Avalanche and Blob could hear him, but especially Pete. "But whether you come along or stay here, I have to go. They're my family."

Mystique stood up and towered over him, her perfect face cold.

"I do not hold it against you that like a child, you dream of a better world. But some day soon, you will grow up and realise that fairy tales aren't real, and all loyal mutants have a place with the Leader. I just hope, for your sake, you don't get in his way before then."

Mirage couldn't bear to meet her eyes. He swung his pack over his shoulder and opened the front door.

"See you around, Pete!" he called, and then in a much lower voice, "Scarlet." He reached out and touched her hand, but she looked away from him. With a sigh, he turned from the fluorescent light of the shabby house and made his way into the night.

The cold air bit at his face, keeping him alert, as he kicked his snarling dirt bike into life and roared onto the highway, heading east. Scruff's rhythmic breathing soothed his agitated temper. He was about twenty miles outside of the city when he saw someone standing in the road. He braked instantly and slid to a jerky halt before the dark outline.

"Pete?" he asked in disbelief. "What's up, man?"

"I broke the sound barrier!" he panted proudly. "I wasn't sure I could pull it off but I did, it sounded like an explosion and then I couldn't hear anything! It was so cool!" And then he turned serious. "I had to warn you. As soon as you left Mystique started saying how some people can't be trusted and the best secret societies stay secret. Then Avalanche started bragging and she was encouraging him… And Scarlet- she just-" he looked at Mirage helplessly, at a loss to explain. "I had to warn you. Avalanche and Blob are going to try something. Mystique said we should only give you a hint of what you're missing but Blob will try to hurt you, and there's nothing I can do to stop them."

"But we're out ahead, aren't we?" Mirage smiled at him. "Jump on the back of my bike and we'll be at the academy by this time tomorrow. We never have to worry about what they do again."

"I- CANT!" Pete wailed. "I can't leave Scarlet! I want to go to the Academy more than anything but how could I abandon her? She doesn't even know I've left to warn you!"

"Would she want you to?"

Pete nodded. "She was scared but she didn't want to look like a chicken. She tried to call it all off but Mystique just steam rolled her."

"She can come with us, Pete. Let's take Scarlet and head to the Academy. Don't you think she wants to come?"

"After tonight I think she would. But I can't carry her far enough to get her away from Avalanche's power."

"Where is Scarlet?" Mirage asked.

"Back at the house."

Mirage flicked a switch on his gears. A small light by his speedometer started to flash.

"What's that?" Quicksilver asked.

"That is a micro transmitter. Right now, in New York, there is an alarm going off in the War Room and in Xavier's house. He's going to gather the X Men. They're going to the Warr Room, and they'll see that it's me asking for help, and they'll see where we are on GPS. And Cyclops and his team are going to be here in about an hour."

"And then what happens?" he asked.

"Then we go get your sister."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Hundreds of miles away, in upstate New York, a small LED light on Scott Summers' phone began to flash. The professor had handed out the phones to all his staff, and as well as apps for Facebook, texting, video, iTunes, GPS, and making phone calls, they had a special link to the other phones. If one was activated, they all began to blink. It meant someone, somewhere, needed the team to get to them as soon as possible- Blackbird fast.

Cyclops didn't notice it at first. He was marking papers about ethical use of mutant abilities from the first year students. Occasionally he would sigh or chuckle at the painfully obvious regurgitation of class notes. Jean Grey, as lovely as ever, was curled up on the sofa opposite, halfway through a biography. He was glad his visor obscured his eyes; she had no way of knowing how often he glanced up at her, glad just to take in the sight of her. He couldn't figure out what a dream like her wanted with a guy like him, but he was happy either way. She noticed the flash in his pocket.

"Scott," she said, concerned, but before she got any further, as he looked down and saw the alarm, a large face peered around the doorframe into the study.

"War Room," Hank said tersely, and the young couple followed him out. A few of the students, studying or working on laptops from their couches and chairs, threw each other knowing glances. It was time for the teachers to be X-Men.

In the basement level, Professor Xavier was in the war room, studying the map of Cleveland shown on the hologram.

"Cleveland? Do we have to?" Logan asked dryly from his usual slouch against a door frame.

"The call is from Mirage," Xavier said, using a laser pointer to specify the location.

"Why is Mirage in Ohio?" Jean asked tensely. "He's supposed to be at home for his birthday. He's hundreds of miles from where he should be."

"I think he tryin' to get back early." Gambit moseyed into the room in his southern pace- slow as molasses, Rogue called it. "Gambit hear he ain't got much to go home to, when he not at school."

"It's irrelevant now. He turned 18 two days ago, and is legally emancipated. We would no longer be kidnapping or usurping 'parental' custody by protecting and retrieving him." Hank lumbered up to the hologram and studied the map. "We all knew he intended to return, and to not only finish his education but most likely continue on." Hank began to tap away at a keyboard and a second screen popped up in the hologram screen, listing newspaper headlines. "What's far more interesting and actually concerning is the recent spate of increasingly violent crime in the area, almost certainly to be attributed to a mutant gang."

"How do you keep ahead of all this, Hank?" Jean asked admiringly. He chuckled.

"A most annoying trait of an encyclopaedic memory. What I read, I remember. Whether I want to or not. I make the connections in my spare time."

"By the nature of the events, do you suspect hardened criminals or disgruntled youth?" Xavier asked. "We need to know who we're facing and how best to approach them, for their own good as well as ours."

"That is perhaps the most intriguing aspect." He frowned while at the same time looking delighted at the puzzle. "The actual crimes, and their targets, are of an increasing socio-political significance, from petty theft and public disruption heading towards harassment and even terrorism. It's practically strategic," he turned to Logan, "which, coming as it does from the Greek word _strategos_, being the title of a high commander of a military entity, commonly translated as General, means that it seems to have been orchestrated by an astute and experienced martial mind." He grinned at Jean and Scott. "I should therefore deduce they are the acts of a savvy mutant-extremist group. And all of this contradicts beautifully with the inexperienced and downright sloppy execution of these strikes, where I would say that chance, more than skill, ensured success. In every case it was down to something random, like an electric failure, or a change in shift pattern, that kept them from being foiled."

"So what?" Logan demanded, popping an energy drink. Normally, by 5pm, he would have been on beer, but there was an exercise on the horizon and Logan took his fighting seriously.

"So, I have no idea whether we're facing incredibly lucky amateurs or a genius commander with imbecilic henchmen."

"Or a gang of kids workin' for him," Gambit interjected suddenly. "Gambit see this a lot, it's more common than you think."

"I am worried that Gambit has hit this on the head," Xavier mused. "My old friend Magnus hasn't been in touch since our last disagreement, and I know his mind well enough to guess his next few steps."

"What was the disagreement about, Professor?" Jean asked.

"Magnus wanted the opportunity to speak to the graduating class of the academy every year, using commencement as a platform to recruit for his budding army of mutant supremacists. I refused to allow it."

"Thought you didn't believe in telling people what to do, Chuck," Logan said.

"Making one's own decision is one thing, Logan. Endorsing Magnus as a speaker at my school, allowing him to use it as a recruitment centre, is something else entirely."

"Damn right," Scott said vehemently, his visor flashing. He coughed, trying to control his outburst, and rubbed his forehead.

Rogue and Storm entered the War Room as the Professor continued.

"Magneto knows the best way to ensure loyalty is to recruit the idealistic and passionate- which means young. It's possible he's recruiting for his army from the runaways across the country. If he's the one making the plans, it explains the strategic targets, and a poorly trained gang of teenagers would explain their sloppy successes."

"Mirage is a smart kid, he knows how to handle himself." Logan lit a cigar. "If he needs help it means there's some tough guy with them. Might be Magneto himself."

"If we may confront Magneto, we will need to treat this as a serious action," Storm said in her melodious voice. "I volunteer to go."

"I'll take point," Cyclops interjected. Jean stepped quietly to his side and looked at the professor.

"And Gambit been lookin' to repay Magneto for a while now," Gambit said darkly. "Count me in."

"That means Hank will have to babysit," Wolverine said. "Cause I never miss a fight."

"Why am I always left to watch the shop?" Hank mourned.

"'Cause you're the only person who can teach all the classes, sugah," Rogue said, smiling. "An' Ah'm comin', too."

"Let's not waste time," said the professor. "Cyclops will give you the plan when you're in the air. Good luck."

The team quickly changed in their underground locker rooms into what was known affectionately as their work clothes (which were very similar to the students' gym kit, but personalised) and then they dashed through the tunnels towards the hanger of the Black Bird. Cyclops was licensed to fly small planes and helicopters, he had started flying lessons at 16, but he did not have a licence to fly the weaponized supersonic jet that the professor kept under the basketball court. Which didn't really matter as the professor wasn't licensed to own it; technically, it was an experimental military stealth craft and therefore an unlicensed concealed weapon, as Scott often joked. The professor was well-connected, and being owed favours was as useful as his wealth.

"There is no plan. The professor never gave you instructions," Jean said quietly as he was preparing for take off.

"I have 27 minutes," he replied.

Pete stood scuffing the toes of his sneakers into the loose gravel at the side of the road. Scruff was chasing his shoelaces. Mirage was waiting. He hadn't moved since he hit the alarm, which meant in code that his life was not in immediate danger. If the War Room had showed his alarm as a moving dot, it would have meant he was running for his life, and Cyclops's reaction might have got them all arrested, once the cops had caught up with them. Chaz was worried about Scarlet, and about what Avalanche and Blob were capable of. He was terrified of Mystique, who seemed to weave some strange charismatic power over everyone she looked at. He was even worried that he and Pete had overreacted and the X Men were speeding in on a jet for no good reason. His head was killing him and, if this all went wrong, soon Logan might be killing him, too. And as those dark thoughts started swirling in his head, so did the same old refrain.

_Quicksilver broke the sound barrier,_ Mirage thought. _Storm controls the elements. Wolverine has indestructible claws. The Blob is indestructible completely, Avalanche creates earthquakes, and Cyclops shoots lasers out of his eyes. I can do nothing, I have nothing, I am nothing… _His "powers", he thought, the word mocking him, were about as useful as an umbrella in Arizona. He spun dreams; how could that protect someone? That headache hovering just over his eyes, there since he had arrived at his parents' house, still wouldn't shift. It felt like a part of him now. Chaz watched Scruff playing with Pete, trying to let the image of a playful puppy make him smile. Scruff was already outgrowing his pocket. His mom had been the size of a Springer spaniel, but he had no idea what his dad had been. If Scruff turned out to be half German Shepherd, Mirage might have trouble fitting him at the foot of his bed at the dorm.

That thought made him pause. _I wonder if Bobby has allergies_… Nah, some things were too much to hope for.

Suddenly, as if in a bad horror film, a thick mist crept from the trees at the side of the road, snaking towards them and tangling their legs, spreading across the ground. Quicksilver looked up in alarm, scooped up Scruff, and walked close enough to touch the bike and the reassuring light of the alarm. Unnaturally fast, the knee deep mist had become the sort of fog you only see in documentaries about Victorian London.

"Knock it off," Pete muttered. "It isn't funny!"

"It isn't me," Chaz replied, suddenly grinning. "Feel it, it's wet." And before he could say more, there was a faint hum, quickly growing louder.

"The Blackbird," Mirage said, unable to contain his grin. Lights came out of the fog above, an eerie glow a UFO would be proud of. A hatch opened, light poured out. There, just 10 feet above their heads, was a jet. Familiar faces peered over the edge. A cable with a loop at the far end was winching down to them.

"Let's go, kid," came Logan's rasping voice. "I'm missing dinner." Quicksilver looked up in awe as Chaz, grinning, put Scruff in his duffel bag and draped the bag over Pete's shoulder.

"Put your foot in the loop, keep you weight on that leg, and hold on!" Chaz said, and soon Pete was being winched into the jet, where Rogue helped him off the cable.

"Everybody, meet Quicksilver and Scruff!" Mirage hollered up at them. There was a startled "_mondieu_!" as Gambit discovered the puppy. "I'll take my bike and lead you in!"

Chaz kicked his dirt bike to life and roared into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Mirage sped back to the gang's secret lair, that rather squalid apartment in a semi-derelict part of town. Somewhere above him, lost in Storm's convenient fog, was the jet. Jean was navigating now, keeping a psychic link to Mirage on the ground, guiding Cyclops through the whiteout, skimming the taller buildings. Chaz slowed to a halt as he reached the block of flats. Scarlet was stood out in front, her cheap velour cape swirling about her in a stiff breeze. Her face twisted as she recognized him. It was not anger, but more like fear.

"You shouldn't have come back," she spat at him. "Why aren't you curled up in front of a cosy fire in New York? With your precious X Men?"

He ignored this. "Where are the guys? And Mystique?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she sneered.

"You mean, you don't know."

"I told them to wait until we at least found Quicksilver but they wouldn't listen to me!" she wailed. "Mystique said he was too close to you for his own good and now for all I know they'll turn on him- maybe on us both! This is all your fault!"

"Oh wake up, Scarlet!" he said bluntly. "You're in with a bunch of thieves and terrorists. You need to get out before it's too late."

And ominously, as can occasionally happen when a prophetic statement is made on a foggy night, there was a teeth-shaking rumble from the earth, like the empty stomach of an unthinkably huge giant. Scarlet looked at him with liquid eyes.

"Avalanche," she breathed. "Pietro!" and then she was off into the thick fog and the night.

"Don't even think about it," came a speaker from the fog above him. "We need to regroup, strategize, and coordinate."

_ That's what the team needs to do_, Mirage thought, _But Scarlet needs help now_. He knew he would get in trouble; the real question was how much. He ran into Scarlet's wake, the pounding in his ears overwhelming the throbbing behind his eyes.

From the air, and through Storm's thick fog, Cyclops had to trust his instruments and Jean's stream of consciousness monologue to track Mirage. Every so often he'd have to climb suddenly to avoid bumping into an aerial tower.

"Left, he's turning here, and now he's running, straight on…he doesn't know where to go… he can't see her anymore…" small beads of perspiration glistened on her smooth brow. She wasn't a natural psychic, and developing that skill alongside her telepathy was perhaps the most arduous study going on at the school (as long as the Professor's therapy sessions to repress Rogue's extra memories and revive Logan's lost ones counted as therapy rather than study). She bit her lip in concentration; her knuckles were white against the arm of her chair. Off in the distant night the sounds of the earth tearing were suddenly joined by the shocking noise of demolition. It sounded as if someone had knocked down a factory.

"You think Mirage could warn somebody if he gonna be handlin' animals!" Gambit grumbled as Rogue cooed over the puppy. Fur, like hair, prevented the skin to skin contact that was Rogue's bane, and cuddling animals was one of her only escapes.

"He's gorgeous!" she squealed as Scruff tried to lick her.

"So Mystique said that this is a cell of the Brotherhood?" Logan pressed Pete for details as he stood awkwardly in the jet, still holding Mirage's bag.

"Yeah, she said the Leader was Magneto when Mirage asked." Pete was amazed at the facilities he saw all around him. "Man, Mirage wasn't kidding… the Professor must be loaded!"

"We are blessed to have such resources," Storm agreed. "And rest assured, Quicksilver, there is a place for you, and your sister, with us. The professor is always happy to welcome a new mind to his school."

Suddenly the air turned blue with curses as the Blackbird was rocked by an explosion almost directly beneath them. Everyone in the back tumbled, trying to keep their feet. Scruff yelped in surprise, but Rogue held him safe.

"That's a gas line catchin' fire," Rogue said grimly. "You hear it once, you don't forget it!"

"It's Avalanche and Blob," Pete said wretchedly. "They specialise in tearing places apart! And they've tried to take out the power station before."

"You can't hover here; the thermals will tip us over!" Jean said urgently as Cyclops grappled with the controls.

"Mirage is directly below us!" he said through gritted teeth.

"Let me take over the Blackbird, Cyclops," Storm urged him, "and maintain the mist cover for you from a higher vantage point. You lead the team in on foot and recover Mirage. We'll stay in touch through our communicators."

Cyclops clearly didn't like the idea, but he nodded abruptly and handed the controls over to Storm.

"Ororo, stay close. We have no idea what we're getting into down here. Pete, you're staying here with Storm."

"But my sister-" he began

"We train as a team, and throwing you in the mix makes it that much more likely someone ends up killed. Stay here with Storm and we'll bring Scarlet to you. Let's move, X Men."

And before Pete could argue any further, the team was jumping out through the bay doors of the Blackbird, Rogue carrying Wolverine and Gambit in either hand, Jean wrapped around Cyclops as her telekinesis slowed their descent.

"Remember to count on bad luck!" he shouted after them.

"Always do," came Wolverine's reply out of the darkness.

Mirage wished yet again that he had some sort of practical power, maybe super senses like Logan so he could track the Scarlet Witch, or speed to catch up with her, or some way of protecting them from whatever dangers Avalanche and Blob were going to throw at them. He kept seeing the fear in her eyes and feeling an over-riding need to protect her. He wasn't sure if it was in a big brother way, or if it had other possibilities, but he knew he couldn't let her go. He was running through a fog so thick he had to follow the lines on the road to make sure he didn't crash into a building. He tried to focus on the things he was sure of- Scruff and Jubilee and everyone else he cared about was safe, and he had a place waiting for him in New York, and the Professor would find something for him to do when he graduated and everything, somehow, would be okay. Maybe Jubilee would go with him to Prom… and all the while, he rushed into danger for the sake of a scrawny girl he barely knew.

A huge explosion rocked the sidewalk and illuminated the near distance like a glowing orange rose; the reek of gas a flame and smoke poured into the night.

"Scarlet!" he shouted. "Scarlet, come on! We're going to get killed hanging around here!"

"Nothing can kill me," came Scarlet's voice. "I am the Scarlet Witch!" and then a brick wall bean to tumble around him. He swore and danced out of the way of falling debris. "Now do you see the power of those you've defied?"

That didn't seem like something Scarlet would say, and Mirage remembered Mystique was a shape shifter. He needed to know…

"Come on, Scarlet, I have Scruff here, he's going to get hurt!" But there was only echoing laughter as another wall came crashing down and the earth shook underfoot. That clinched it for him; Scarlet loved Scruff. And if Scarlet wanted him crushed, her power would have made sure of it, but as the person speaking to him was Mystique in Scarlet's form, she had no more advantage than he had. They could both make others see what they wanted- and on that scale, Mirage had the advantage. He summoned 'Cyclops', 'Gambit', and 'Wolverine' out of the mist.

"Come on Scarlet, we've got Pete and we're all going to New York. You're coming too."

"You'll have to go through the others, first!" the voice shrieked. And then the quaking underfoot ceased, and everything was still.

"Oh, crap…" he breathed. And with that a fissure opened under his feet, and the street began to rip itself apart beneath him. Mirage ran, and the crack followed him. His illusions vanished as his concentration broke. Walls collapsed towards him, but somehow he managed to avoid ever falling brick and beam. Wherever Scarlet was, she seemed to be on his side- or on Scruff's, anyway. Suddenly he stopped short- he had almost run right off of the traffic overpass bridge he didn't realise he was on. He couldn't go back, the fissure gaped behind him; and there was a drop before him that would cripple, if not kill. He had been corralled.

"We can't let you duck out," said the Blob, from outside Mirage's view. He looked and looked but all around him was mist. "You're either in, or out. You didn't want in. So I'm gonna take you out."

"Come on Duke, you don't want to hurt me," Mirage bluffed. "I've never done anything to you. I gave you cheat codes, remember?"

There was no answer. Off in the fog, there was a grinding noise. Metal on stone. "Duke, seriously. Not cool, man." The grinding continued. There, some kind of huge tanker was on its side, slowly grinding metal on asphalt with a skin-crawling noise that froze his bones. It was inching towards him, inexorable. The Blob was going to push him off the overpass. He would never walk again, if he lived.

"Mirage! It's Cyclops! Where are you?"

"Here! You've got to stop this tanker, I'm going to fall!"

Somewhere below, Cyclops swore. "I can't see you! I can't risk it, Mirage! I could kill you!"

In his panic, images of his life starting strobing through his brain, and his power caused them to flash around him in the fog. He was standing with Red Eagle on a wind-swept field; he was in the nursing home as his grandmother died of dementia, smelling of urine; his mother was throwing a kitchen knife at him; Jubilee was laughing as they sat on a hill at night, filling the sky with fireworks together. The heels of his boots hung over an abyss as the rest of him pressed desperately against the tanker. And then, that pressure behind his eyes, that headache that wouldn't shift, exploded.

Time stopped. Mirage's vision blazed white. His ears were deafened; no sound vibrations or any other touch from the world around him reached him. The tanker burst away from Mirage and forward into Duke as if it had been hit by a wrecking ball. Mirage felt held in stasis for a moment, and then released. He was disoriented, lost his balance, and toppled backwards off the bridge.

With a startled oath, Cyclops ran forward towards the falling body. He knew he wouldn't be able to break the fall- but suddenly Rogue was there; she was flying, which she hated to do. To save Mirage, she swooped to him faster than a falcon, seized him by the waist, and lowered him gently to the ground where Cyclops began a furious check for injuries.

Above, the Blob was gasping and groaning: the tanker had knocked him off his feet, and pinned the lower half of his body. He was trying to right it, and making some headway. Further up the shrouded street, Mystique, stunned and knocked back to her true form, was also attempting to rise. High above, lost in the heavy cloud, Storm struggled to control the Blackbird as suddenly, all the electronics went dead. The jet dropped and jerked in the air; various systems failed and flashed back into life, and the otherwise tranquil Storm swore and began to sweat as she fought the jet and gravity both.

"What was dat?" Gambit demanded. He was running towards the site of the explosion. Wolverine had disappeared into the mist.

"Some kind of explosion," Cyclops replied, "and it hit Mirage. Rogue, get him to the Blackbird. The rest of us are going to put a stop to this."

Mirage stirred feebly. "You gotta find Scarlet," he murmured, "but watch out for Mystique… she changes…"

At the mention of the name Mystique, Rogue turned pale. "She's a shape-shifter," she said hollowly. "Ah- Ah'll stay with Mirage in the jet. Keep an eye on him. He might need first aid or somethin'."

"Thanks Rogue," Cyclops said, distracted. "Jean, can you find them?"

Up in the Blackbird, Mirage quickly recovered his senses. He didn't seem to be at all injured. He shook off Quicksilver's concerned ministrations and peered through the fog, trying to see what was happening on the ground.

The muffled explosions were joined by the red blaze of Cyclops's optic blasts, and the familiar _snikt_ of adamantium. Gambit's drawl, have southern, half French, came through in droll remarks met with curt replies from Jean- she never had time for jokes when there was business at hand. Rogue sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, incommunicative. Pete was pacing up and down the jet, glancing to Mirage if he moved or made a sound, torn between his concern for his sister and his friend.

"What happened to the Blackbird?" Mirage moaned as he tried to get up. He wasn't hurt, he was surprised to notice. Disoriented, yes, and a bit numb in the extremities but his headache was gone and Rogue had caught him gently.

"It seems like the effect of an Electro-magnetic pulse," Storm replied, "but I can't imagine where it came from. Even the destruction of local power stations wouldn't cause the energy to release in that manner." Absently she raked her hair away from her eyes. "I fear there may be a mutant behind this, and if so he is an unknown element."

Jean's voice suddenly filled the cabin. _Storm, send down the winch. We've got the girl and we're coming up._ As soon as the bay doors opened, a prostrate form of the Scarlett Witch, surrounded in the blue nimbus of Jean's telekinesis, rose into the cabin and settled gently next to Mirage. As the winch descended, Jean joined them, floating softly in the grasp of her own power. Next she lifted Cyclops, as Wolverine and Gambit gripped the cable and eventually settled inside the cabin. The bay doors shut and Storm lifted the Blackbird away from Cleveland and pointed the nose northeast to New York and home.

Quicksilver was at his sister's side in literally an instant. He checked her for injuries and then looked accusingly at Cyclops. Cyclops, the hero he had formed from Mirage's description, had turned up with his sister unconscious.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"That shape shifter… had a good time playing us against one another in the fog," Cyclops said, ruefully. "Gambit and I nearly killed each other."

"If it weren't for Logan's nose, I think she might have had us," Jean added, throwing a glowing smile to Wolverine, who turned away from her.

"Wolverine found her," Cyclops continued, "and got her out. We covered him until we could get back. That Avalanche can pack a wallop."

"He's a damn bully," Quicksilver said darkly. "But what happened to Scarlet?"

"She was like that when I found her," Wolverine rasped. "The shape shifter's smell is all over her."

Quicksilver ground his teeth. "We _trusted_ her," he growled. Mirage put an arm around Pete's shoulders.

"Scarlet is safe now. You both are. Beast is a great doctor, and he knows more about mutant physiology than anyone practicing medicine in the whole world. Whatever Mystique did, Dr. McCoy will fix it."

"I'll never forgive them," Pete insisted, as tears threatened his eyes. He threw off Mirage's arm and drew his knees to his chest, settling in to sit guard for his sister.

"Let's go home, please?" Mirage asked the cabin in general. Scruff licked at him, wanting to play, and Mirage handed him to a subdued Rogue, who instantly cuddled him close.

"What's different about you, Mirage?" Jean asked him suddenly. She knelt down by him and tested his face with her hand, as if checking for fever. "You're different. Not on the outside but… something else…" she furrowed her brow.

"Have a rummage, I don't mind," Mirage invited her. There was nothing too private in his head, except for the slightly confused attractions he had for both Jubilee and Scarlet, and he knew Jean wouldn't pry.

"If my psychic ability was enough to figure it out, I'd know by now," she mused. "Would you mind the Professor taking a look? He's so much better than me."

"Whatever you think is right," Mirage replied. He was suddenly very tired. "I'm going to try to catch some shut eye. Wake me up before we land?"

"Let me help you with that," Jean murmured, and suddenly Mirage's exhaustion was comfortably complete; Jean caught his head as he fell back into restful oblivion.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next few days were full of activity at the Institute. Beast declared that Scarlet had been knocked out with the old fashioned combination of a stunning blow to the head and chloroform. She recovered quickly, but she refused to speak to anyone other than Pete, secluding themselves in the hospital wing behind 'institutional green' paper curtains. She refused to take a place in the girls' dorms but stayed in one of the guest suites. Pete said she seemed to resent the fact that she had been rescued by those she considered the enemy, and while she admitted to Pete she could never trust Mystique again, Scarlet still clung to the idea that the Leader was working towards a better future for Mutants and he was the way forward. Pete was growing more and more frustrated at her obstinacy. Pete, on the other hand, had blended in at the Institute so well it felt like he had always been there. He quickly made friends with the younger students, settled into a dorm room, and could be found sitting unobtrusively at the back of class rooms during lessons. He wasn't technically an enrolled student, but the inclusive nature of the school meant he was welcome to spend the day however he liked; there was no charge for complimentary algebra.

Mirage was the focus of attention among his classmates as well as his circle of friends as someone who had had a very real adventure, probably a battle, even, with the X Men, while underage. It was something they all aspired to yet were completely sheltered from. Jubilee was particularly envious, and asked him for every detail- how the teachers worked together, the instruments in the Blackbird, everything. Mirage was asked by all to tell and retell the story. He got the feeling he would be sick of it soon, but he always found the patience to tell it just once more. And of course, when Mirage told stories, they truly came to life before his audience's eyes. The Blob in person became more menacing than just a big fat guy, and the manic glint in Avalanche's eyes gave a lot of kids the willies. The girls sighed at his projection of Mystique's eerie beauty while shuddering at her manipulation. Scruff spent his time frisking around ankles, making friend with everyone, and charming even the staff so the question never came up whether or not dogs were allowed. Everyone joined in taking care of him, and he became a bit of a school mascot. This went on over the few days it took for Chaz to meet the Professor as Jean had asked, as there were other things afoot.

Quite apart from Mirage's adventure, campus also buzzed with the presence of a dignitary who had come to visit the professor. He was a middle aged, yet still very vital Native American who called himself Forge. He could be seen stalking around the campus quite gracefully wearing bionic prosthetics he had designed himself. Forge was an inventor and engineer. After losing an arm and a leg in Vietnam, he'd retired from active duty military service and worked for the government on projects for the Air Force and the Space Program. It was rumoured he had designed every cool piece of technology the government had copyrighted in the past decade. Those who knew of the existence of such things insisted Forge had helped designed the Blackbird, the Danger Room, and the War Room. His prosthetic leg had functioning knee, ankle, and toe joints, far more sophisticated than the blade design that disabled athletes were wearing. Likewise, his prosthetic hand was like something out of Star Wars. He could even write with it.

Forge and the professor spent hours together each day, closeting in offices, touring the facilities, and interviewing the teachers, official X Men. Forge took his tablet everywhere, made notes about everything, and had an endless supply of questions. Neither Forge nor the professor spoke to the students, and the teachers were adept at dodging the students' curiosity.

Forge had brought with him two young men, brothers, the age of the older students. Their names were John and James Proudstar, but they went by codenames: Thunderbird and Warpath. Forge seemed to be a foster father or guardian of some sort to them. They held themselves separate from the students, though they weren't invited to Forge's meetings with Professor Xavier. If they had their own data collecting mission, they did it without making friends, or enemies. They just stood in the background, occasionally speaking in low voices to each other. The only exception to this rule was during Gym class, where they trained with the students. They were faster than everyone except Quicksilver, stronger than everyone but Rogue, and only Beast could occasionally match them. Rather than cracking jokes and goofing off, as Iceman, Jubilee, Mirage, and Gambit all had a habit of doing, they trained as if they were going to war with intense expressions and no chatter.

Finally the Professor asked Mirage to come to his official school office, the same place people went to get the Principal's Office treatment. Mirage couldn't help feeling a bit nervous before seeing Professor Xavier. Thought the Professor was always approachable and welcoming, he was such an important man and a respected one that Mirage couldn't help feeling awkward and self-conscious, as if he were meeting the president. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, he rapped his jagged knuckles on the door.

"Come in, Mirage," said the Professor. Chaz stepped in. In the room was not only the familiar sight of the Professor in his chair, but also the intimidating form of Forge, long black hair caught at the nape of his neck, bionic hand gleaming where it rested on his crossed arms.

"Mirage, I would like you to meet my friend Forge. Forge, this is Mirage." Forge reached out and shook Mirage's hand. Mirage did his best to return the strong grip and the steady gaze that Forge gave him without flinching at the cold steel. "Forge is visiting our school for a very specific reason, one I think you would be interested in. The government has asked him to create a program for young mutants interested in a career in National Defence. Our president has recognised the sort of asset mutant abilities can offer."

"There is the potential to create a mutant branch of the military, code named X Force, if the program goes well and the interest of potential recruits is there." Forge seemed to be sizing Mirage up, and Mirage wished for about the billionth time in his life that he wasn't so damn skinny. "Nobody has come as far in mutant training as your Professor, so this had to be my first stop for research."

"You'll have the chance to discuss the project shortly, Mirage, if you're interested." The Professor smiled at him as if they shared a secret. Forge picked up his tablet from the desk and faced them both.

"I look forward to our future conversations, Mirage. I hear you're the sort of young man I'm looking for. Good day, Professor."

"Forge," the Professor nodded in return. And then Mirage and Professor X were alone in his office.

"Take a seat, Mirage." Chaz sat, his knobbly knuckles resting on his knees. "Jean tells me you had quite the series of experiences over your Easter holiday. I've already interviewed the X Men, of course, but I would be very interested to see it through your eyes, if you would allow me."

"Sure, Professor, whatever helps." He cleared his throat. "Do I need to… close my eyes or something?"

"That often helps to relax the mind, yes," the Professor said with a smile. As soon as the office disappeared from Chaz's view, the events the past weeks flashed through his mind, not just the sights and sounds, but the sounds and smells and emotions that were wrapped up in it. The Professor, with great discretion, skimmed through the disgust, regret, and ultimate antipathy of leaving his parents' household, the grief and bitter-sweet joy of finding Scruff, and the gut churning fear of facing down the Brotherhood on his own as they tried to steal his bike, drawing on his Cyclops and Wolverine to make him brave. He dwelled a great deal on the time he had spent in Mystique's company, the indoctrination of Scarlet and Avalanche, and the quiet malice of the Blob. He also spent a long time studying Quicksilver. He must have thought he had seen the important elements when he came to Mirage's memory of the blast that could have killed him, were it not for Rogue. The professor slowed down and replayed that memory, taking in every sensation. Mirage felt the clammy brush of fog on his skin, the merciless steel tanker under his hands, the rough hollow scraping of his sneakers on the asphalt, and the loss of his senses as the blast struck- the remarkable absence of impact, the deafness, the blindness, the numbness.

"Forgive me Mirage, I will need to go deeper to understand this," the Professor's voice murmured. Suddenly Mirage's mind was reeling, everything was blinding flashes, random impressions- the colour pink, bright light, the scent of blood, the taste of cauliflower… it was as if his subconscious was squirming as a dentist probed for a cavity in his psyche. And as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.

"Chaz, you have certainly surprised me." The Professor was smiling at Mirage as he regained control of his mind. "Usually I can sense the complete extent of an individual's mutation immediately. I have failed to recognise your hidden depths. Please forgive me, I should have detected this and been preparing you for it." The Professor waited as Mirage shook his head, blinked, and rubbed at an ear. "That blast came from you."

"ME? It knocked me off the bridge, could have killed me! How could I do that to myself?"

"Mutant powers often manifest in times of stress, and you were certainly under pressure on that bridge. Your body reacted to stop the immediate threat- the tanker- without considering the other elements."

"So, if I did it, what was it? I mean, Storm said it knocked out the electronics on the Blackbird. How did I manage that?"

"Your power allows you to manipulate the electronic signals in the brain. That's how you create mirages. You aren't building anything tactile; you're altering the brain waves of the audience. I believe the blast was an extension of that; in effect, you created an eletro-magnetic pulse with your mind. You have the power to manipulate electric impulses in brain function to change a person's perception; you have also proved you can corrupt the flow of other electronic connections. You short-circuited the Blackbird's control panel, but I believe you could, with practice, just as easily set Bobby's ipod to shuffle when he's trying to listen to his work out playlist." A huge grin lit Mirage's face. "I would like to make it clear that was only an example, and not a recommendation," the professor added with an admirably straight face.

"Of course, Professor," Mirage agreed.

"This new facet of your power has very practical applications. You could short a missile guidance system, or corrupt the files of the Mutant Registration Program. And let's not forget that you could focus a numbing blast on the brains of people causing mass loss of consciousness. You might even be able to stop their brains completely…"

"Are you saying I could kill people?" Mirage asked, suddenly horrified.

"Potentially. You could, in theory, cease all electronic signals in a brain, causing brain death. Whether the brain would resume normal function afterwards…" the professor trailed off, shaking his head. "I cannot say, Mirage. We won't know what you can do until you have learned to control this ability and tested it safely."

"How do I test this safely?" Mirage asked, aghast.

"I don't know yet. I'll work on it with Hank, and if you give me permission, I will ask Forge to assist me. He is, after all, a genius."

"Uh. Sure. Yeah. Wow. I mean… I guess I'm struggling to take it all in…"

"I completely understand, Mirage. You have a lot to think about. I want you to take the rest of the day off, clear your head. I only request that you do not experiment with this new facet of your power unsupervised."

"Of course, Professor," Mirage agreed quickly. "Um, sir, would it be weird to… well… have a different code name…"

"As you would fulfil a completely different roll, it would be only sensible to reflect that in your call sign." The Professor smiled again. "You will be fine, Mirage, and you have several futures before you to choose from. You'll be welcome to stay on at the Academy, as an X Man, once you've had an extra year or two to refine this power. I know you're exactly the sort of recruit Forge would want for his military force, if you prefer warrior to educator. And of course, you can always go on to any college or career of your choice and lead a normal life."

"Thanks, Professor." Chaz stood up to leave. As he reached the door, the Professor spoke again.

"You will inform Jean, won't you, when you've made a decision about your call sign. The roster will need updating."

"Yes sir," Chaz replied, smiling as he left.

It was late in the evening, and Chaz sat in the quiet twilight on a pier on the lake with Jubilee at his side, occasionally waving away bugs. They had enjoyed a long conversation that afternoon. Chaz had confided in her about his new powers, his fears and confusion over the future and his worry for the fate of the twins. Across the lake, Pete could just be seen cheating in a game of basketball with his new friends as Scruff chased the dangling shoe laces of the younger boys. Bobby, too, was holding court on the obstacle course, the older students merely hanging out on the equipment as they would not be caught dead 'playing'.

"And he said I should have a new name," Chaz concluded.

"I can't believe that's one of your major concerns," she said witheringly. Chaz slugged her shoulder lightly, and surprisingly, Jubilee leaned in and kissed his cheek. Awkward silence swelled until she said, "Make a decision, quick, before these damn mosquitos eat us alive."

"Or carry us off to feed their young," Chaz agreed. He looked again at his knobbly hands, and thought about electronic pulses, surging through brains, connecting synapses, drawing pictures in the receptors for sight, for sound, for smell and memory. And then he thought of the way the Blackbird would have shuddered in the air as electronics failed, he pictured the groan of a student whose laptop was dying, of high scores wiped from Playstations, of school essays not backed up before crashes. He imagined the electrical bolts weaving through the world, connecting minds both physical and electronic, the blue light rushing knowledge and feeling throughout the world. He imagined himself making it dance.

"What do you think of Pulse?"


End file.
